Never judge a book by its cover, or indeed a film by its title. This couldn’t be truer of Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie. On the surface it looks utterly ridiculous, and yet within the first minute or so, Dreamworks had won me over with charm, smart humour, and a surprising amount of laughs. I suppose I should’ve known better really, especially as it’s coming from the same studio as other top-class animated features such as Shrek (2001) and How to Train Your Dragon (2010). It’s easy to make the assumption that this type of filmmaking is for children, but more often than not the writers craft a balance between craziness for kids and more complex gags for adults.

The story follows school kids George Beard (Kevin Hart) and Harold Hutchins (Thomas Middleditch), who have a very close friendship living in each others pockets, laughing behind teachers’ backs, and getting up to mischief. What Captain Underpants does so well from the start is make itself completely relatable, and even though the titular character is plastered all over the place it’s not really about him. This is a film that focuses on a pure and believable relationship between two outsiders, who find their place in the world together. It just so happens that they love writing, creating, and superheroes. Sadly their Principal, Mr. Benjamin “Benny” Krupp (Ed Helms), doesn’t share their passions, instead getting his kicks from making their lives absolutely miserable by punishing them for their notorious pranks.

George and Harold get a little cocky during a mandatory weekend invention presentation, and they’re finally caught in the act due to a nanny-cam created by their young nemesis Melvin Sneedley (Jordan Peele). We all knew a Melvin; far more interested in sucking up to teachers than ever making friends his own age, so he’d much rather get extra credit from Mr. Krupp by helping him plot the duo’s downfall and break up their friendship. And, hey, not all relationships are made to last forever, but this one has some mileage left in it yet, so the boys quickly come up with a plan: to stop Principal Krupp they hypnotise him into thinking he’s their creation Captain Underpants. It’s an altogether stupid plan but makes for some hilarious consequences, including Krupp’s newfound attraction with lunch lady Edith (Kristen Schaal), and a fight to save all the kids against a dastardly scientist called Professor Pee-Pee Diarrheastein Poopypants, Esq. (Nick Kroll). What a name!

Many of you are reading this and thinking Captain Underpants sounds stupid, but it’s so much more than its silly names and absurd ideas. The way George and Harold behave together will make you smile, bringing back memories of your own childhood when you were young and free. We all had that one person we totally relied on and did absolutely everything with. Kids will think these characters are a riot, and will have two new heroes to adore, while adults will love the superhero film references and clever comments that sail way over any child’s head.

Captain Underpants never feels too long and the time flies by. You’ll be grinning from ear to ear from start to finish and it’s as bright and shiny as one would expect from a Dreamworks release. The visuals, from Mikros Image Montreal, work perfectly for the source material, and the editing style represents books and comics effectively. Nicholas Stoller’s screenplay embraces the silliness of Dav Pilkey’s original books, but turns it up a notch to deliver a film that overdelivers and leaves you wanting more. Captain Underpants deserves a sequel as it’s one of the best animated films of the year, but one looks unlikely based purely on theatrical box office (it only made $125 million). But it was also the cheapest Dreamworks animation ever made, costing just $38m, so perhaps a successful afterlife on DVD will hope usher in a Second Epic Movie…

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/captain-underpants-2017/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/captain-underpants-2017/MARVEL’S THE PUNISHER – Season Onehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/xCjYMiwUzNk/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/marvels-punisher-season-one/#respondTue, 12 Dec 2017 17:57:41 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14624Marvel Television was in need of a success on Netflix after the disappointment of Iron Fist and lacklustre team-up The Defenders. Unfortunately, their latest...

Marvel Television was in need of a success on Netflix after the disappointment of Iron Fist and lacklustre team-up The Defenders. Unfortunately, their latest street-level comic-book drama, The Punisher, isn’t the gripping series it promised to be, although it’s a worthy attempt at exploring themes like post-traumatic stress disorder, the role of veterans in society after serving their country, and US gun crime. The story is also bleaker, darker, and more violent than anything under the Marvel umbrella before now…

The Punisher picks up the story of ex-marine turned vigilante Frank Castle (Jon Bernthal) shortly after the events of Daredevil‘s second season. Castle finishes taking revenge on those responsible for killing his family early on, but it doesn’t end there because he soon learns there’s more to what happened. A conspiracy reaches further than he ever expected, so Frank’s determined to uncover the truth and, along the way, kill anyone involved in the death of his wife and children.

Frank Castle isn’t a hero, he’s an anti-hero. This is a key trait of the character. He’s fuelled at first by an overwhelming desire for revenge, and then eventually by a feeling that society doesn’t adequately punish criminals, and that he should take it into his own hands. Frank’s best defined as a soldier with a mission, or perhaps a weapon to be aimed at bad guys. It’s to the show’s credit that it doesn’t forget the roots of the character, because Frank always feels out of touch and damaged by his experiences, which is very fitting.

It’s hard not to feel, however, that the character is too simplistic to hold your interest as the focus of his own show. As a counterpoint to Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) and his own approach to vigilante justice in Daredevil, Frank made for an excellent sparring partner with the ‘Red’ and provided ammunition for an interesting subplot. On his own, sadly, there’s not enough depth or nuance to Frank Castle to make his own concerns very compelling. The issues he’s dealing with are intriguing, but the show struggles to develop him.

Like any of the various Marvel shows on Netflix, The Punisher introduces a host of supporting players but only gives a few of them decent character arcs. Daredevil’s Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll) returns as a trusted confidante for Frank, while he gains an ally in hacker Micro (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), a presumed dead former NSA analyst looking for the same answers that Frank is. The other key character is determined Homeland Security agent Dinah Madani (Amber Rose Revah), who begins to unravel the conspiracy herself thanks to an incriminating video showing US soldiers torturing and killing an unarmed POW.

It’s a familiar criticism of Marvel on Netflix, but The Punisher again doesn’t have enough story for 13 episodes of serialised television. It’s much too long, and unfortunately often boring and slow. The pacing is poor and it the characters mostly unoriginal. It’s the least binge-friendly of its brethren simply because each episode ends without giving you enough of a reason to watch the next instalment.

Also, while The Punisher is interested in tackling meaty and compelling themes, it doesn’t bring anything new to the conversation. It lacks substance, so will only appeal if you’re looking for a repetitive and myopic approach to political issues. This show is happy to present hot button topics, but doesn’t have anything to offer in terms of insight. You’d be hard-pressed to tell someone exactly what point the show is trying to argue when it comes to talking about gun violence, war veterans, or vigilantism.

Ultimately, the strong performances are a big part of what makes the show worth your time. Bernthal really commits, and is able to bring nuance and complexity to Frank that definitely isn’t on the page. He’s a tortured, tragic character and it’s clear the actor understands what makes someone like Frank tick. Similarly, the supporting characters and the villains are well-played and feel grounded and realistic for a comic-book drama. That helps The Punisher become bold and different compared to the other Marvel-Netflix offerings. It also is barely connected to them, and feels like it’s from a different world entirely, despite also taking place in New York City.

The Punisher may struggle with narrative pacing and depth of material, but it certainly doesn’t have much trouble with atmosphere. This is an oppressive, dark, moody show, which infects your own psychology. The violence is unflinching and it only gets more intense as the show builds to its conclusion. When the story falters, the action helps keep things gripping.

It’s a slog to get through the season, though, and you’ll struggle to find much to make it worth the effort. This is a humourless series, with character arcs that are uninspired, relying heavily on the impressive cast. And because it’s so disconnected from the other Defenders shows, it feels inconsequential to the overall story. The Punisher definitely understands Frank Castle as a character and Bernthal is the best onscreen portrayal of him, but he doesn’t really deserve his own series. There are bright spots and some great moments, but it’s generally lacking the depth and charm that could have made it a genuine success.

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/marvels-punisher-season-one/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/marvels-punisher-season-one/HOUSE (1986) • HOUSE II: THE SECOND STORY (1987) • HOUSE III: THE HORROR SHOW (1989) • HOUSE IV: THE REPOSSESSION (1992)http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/U-R-EqxxwZg/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/house-saga-1986-1992/#respondSun, 10 Dec 2017 17:57:49 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14445HOUSE (1986) Steve Miner’s an unsung hero of cult ’80s movies, having earned his stripes working on Wes Craven’s The Last House on the...

Steve Miner’s an unsung hero of cult ’80s movies, having earned his stripes working on Wes Craven’s The Last House on the Left (1972) and Sean S. Cunningham’s Friday the 13th (1980), before getting to direct the first two sequels of the latter. He went on to make Warlock (1989), Halloween H20: 20 Years Later (1998), and Lake Placid (1999), before segueing into TV with the likes of Psych and Eureka.

His third movie was comedy-horror House (1986), which isn’t particularly well-known outside of the US. It’s flown under my radar for decades now, although the poster with a disembodied hand pushing a doorbell causes a flicker of recognition. It was probably one of many VHS covers that caught my eye in the horror aisle of my local Blockbuster.

One of the great things about Arrow Video is they not only satisfy niche tastes, but can introduce audiences to obscure films they didn’t catch first time around. Unfortunately, opinions from both groups tend to be poles apart, because nostalgists are satisfied to relive hazy VHS memories in gleaming HD (overlooking the shoddiest of low-budget productions), whereas everyone else can’t help comparing these artefacts to better movies of the era.

Roger Cobb (William Katt) is a famous horror novelist, whose life’s been tainted by genuine horrors. His young son went missing after he returned home from a tour of Vietnam, leading to him separating from his actress wife, and whose old aunt (Susan French) has just committed suicide. In shades of The Shining (1980), Cobb decides to move into his late aunt’s empty Victorian abode to write his next book, which will be a raw account of his experience as a G.I. Unfortunately, the house is haunted by ghouls and critters that drove his poor aunt to her grave, who make their presence known to her famous nephew…

I wish the story of House was as succinct as the above, but the script by Gremlins F/X effects artist Ethan Wiley is clearly the work of a beginner, and the direction from Miner isn’t much better. There are so many weird lapses in Cobb’s thinking that it kills your ability to invest in the crazy situations being presented. A lot of that is down to badly-timed flashbacks, and no attempt is made to differentiate the present from the past, either through a colour filter or make-up to make Katt look a decade younger. It caused me a lot of confusion for awhile.

For instance, Cobb mentions to a realtor that he grew up in his aunt’s home, then flashbacks I presumed were of a young Cobb were actually of his son. So why was he living in his aunt’s house as an adult with his child? And considering his aunt was aware the place was haunted years ago in that same flashback, why does he think it’ll be a great idea to move into the house now? And why did his aunt commit suicide only recently, if she’s supposedly been living with these ghosts for years? Didn’t she grow accustomed to them?

House does a poor job of setting up its simple premise: a horror author suffering post-traumatic stress faces paranormal activity in the home of his late aunt. There are also some very random moments that don’t make much sense, or suggest intriguing things that are never returned to. I laughed at a moment when a realtor absentmindedly shot a harpoon at Cobb’s head mid-conversation, which embeds itself inches away from his face in a wooden pillar. The realtor’s so nonchalant about almost killing a famous client that it suggests something is very wrong with him, or he’s someone to take note of… but his character’s never seen again! It was just a throwaway gag?

In another moment, Cobb wears army fatigues while arranging a bank of cameras intending to capture a monster lurking in a closet on tape… but when he pulls open the door by tugging on a rope he bolts from the house and runs out into the garden in broad daylight. There was just no need for that reaction. It may sound trivial, but there are too many moments when Cobb does something illogical, so you stop believing in him as a realistic person. He’s too inconsistent and stupid; a badly written character in an amateurish script that doesn’t know how best to handle a decent premise that marries The Shining to The Evil Dead (1981).

House wants to tie together the notion that Cobb’s suffering from PTSD and this haunting is maybe a symptom of his troubled mind, and not the work of ghosts and ghouls. Or the paranormal is somehow feeding off Cobb’s mental state. It’s a workable idea, but the script doesn’t do any of it justice. We know the house is genuinely haunted, because his aunt experienced strange events and she certainly wasn’t suffering from PTSD. If they wanted to create some kind of ambiguity about what’s real and what’s in Cobb’s head—up until the point his affable next-door neighbour Harold (George Wendt) witnesses a rubbery closet monster for himself—then they should’ve studied The Shining more.

Afterwards, I considered that Cobb’s imagination is leaking into reality, which explains some of the creatures he encounters, but not much is made of this during the story itself. And if that was the intention, wouldn’t you have Cobb realise this fact and fight back against his internal demons becoming literal ones?

One thing that’s of debatable merit is the fact much of House happens during daylight hours, which is unusual for a haunted house movie. Or most horrors in general. Often for good reason. I appreciate it when a scary movie tries to provoke chills from situations happening during the day, as it’s a big challenge for the filmmakers and can give audiences a feeling that you’re not safe anywhere. I always think of the scene in Poltergeist II: The Other Side (1986) when the phantom Reverend Kane visits a family’s house on a beautiful summer’s day before a rainstorm. There’s something very disconcerting about supernatural shit happening during a time one assumes people are safe from otherworldly creatures one associates with the night.

Unfortunately, House isn’t interested, or capable, of being scary at any time of the day. It’s too goofy to leave you peeking at the screen between your fingers, as most of the “ghosts” are just stuntmen in cheap costumes and expressionless masks. It would have helped matters if the scary moments happened after sunset, to differentiate the flashbacks to the present-day, give us a feeling of time passing, and to hide the low-budget effects and costumes. The best of the demons is “Big Ben” (Richard Moll), a zombie version of Cobb’s comrade from ‘Nam, who unsurprisingly appears at night in the finale.

House is a hard movie to take very seriously, but I don’t like the defence it’s a horror-comedy and thus intentionally ridiculous. It doesn’t work like that. Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead II followed only a year later, and is an infinitely scarier and funnier version of the trope where someone’s under siege from the paranormal, not to mention more inventive with its camerawork and horror elements. House is almost like Steve Miner got access to someone’s large house, George Wendt owed him a favour, but he realised none of the crew wanted to work at night, and had to tone everything down so it wouldn’t get slapped with an R certificate.

HOUSE II: THE SECOND STORY (1987)

The first sequel, House II: The Second Story (1987), blows its best joke on the title. Well, I presume that’s a play on words with “storey”, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was unintentional. Sean S. Cunningham retained the rights to House after its release, and it made financial sense to try and create a horror franchise. None of the original actors returned, so writer Ethan Wiley (pulling double duty as director) was forced to go in a new direction with an unrelated story and characters.

Trying to developing an anthology of films, under the “House brand”, reminded me of the original intention behind the Halloween franchise. Halloween II (1981) famously only continued the story of Michael Myers because the success of John Carpenter’s movie demanded a follow-up. The unrelated Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982) was indicative of what they originally wanted to do, but its failure at the box office suggested the studio continue on with Michael Myers.

House II again opens on a weird flashback, where a married couple are murdered by the corpse of a cowboy in their home, moments after sending their infant son Jesse away. 25 years later, Jesse (Arye Gross) is all grownup and moving back into his family’s old mansion with his girlfriend Kate (Lar Park Lincoln), later joined by friends Charlie (Jonathan Stark) and Lana (Amy Yasbeck). While rooting through old items in the basement (did none of the subsequent homeowners clean out their shit?), Jesse finds old photographs of his great-great grandfather (Royal Dano) holding a crystal skull, and decide to dig up his ancestor’s grave to retrieve and sell the antiquity. After their successful grave-robbing, Jesse and Charlie discover that ‘Gramps’ has been reanimated by the magical skull and decide to take him home.

Comedy tries to ensue.

You can already tell that House II is less interested in the horror elements of the previous movie, which were undercut by its bright lighting and goofy tone. It seems that Ethan Wiley decided to lean into the silliness of House, at the expense of anything that could provoke any chills up the spine. It’s strange that House II (and the franchise at large) are marketed as horror-comedies, when this sequel is closer in tone to an action-adventure fantasy. It’s Poltergeist (1982) meets The Never Ending Story (1984), only much worse. Jesse later realises that each bedroom leads to a different time or place, so it’s not long before we’re in a jungle environment and Aztec temple with animatronic creatures like a baby pterodactyly, a “caterpuppy” (half caterpillar, half puppy), and a caveman.

If this all sounds fun and entertaining, it’s sadly not. It’s actually a huge disappointment that House II doesn’t attempt to be scary, as the increased budget of $3 million could have solved some of the first movie’s problems. It does look more cinematic, but it’s still trying to do too much with too little. I like the idea of a “haunted house” with portals across Time and Space, but because the script is so aggressively unfunny and tonally inconsistent I rapidly lost interest. This is one of those movies where you realise it’s not what the cover sold you on, then you spend the next hour checking your watch and eyeing the fast-forward button.

There are a few areas House II does a decent enough job with, if you’re being kind. The friendship between Jesse and Charlie comes across onscreen, as the actors have a good rapport together. It’s certainly a more ambitious movie in terms of the visuals, too, with Wiley’s F/X background and Filofax undoubtedly coming in handy. John Ratzenberger also cameos as a nosey electrician called Bill, who’s also a “part-time adventurer” and gets temporarily involved in the adventure without batting an eyelid over the insanity of the situation. He’s such a pleasing screen presence that it was clearly a huge mistake to focus on Gramps, when Bill clearly gives the story some of the fun it’s striving for. I’m not sure how intentional it was to get another Cheers alum involved, following George Went’s supporting role in House, but it would have been hilarious to continue that tradition with Ted Danson and Shelley Long in the next two instalments. Sadly, they don’t.

House II is a bad movie, largely because it does a poor job building on a half-decent idea and makes terrible creative decisions. I’m not sure why they made this one even lighter, but that’s the mistake it dies by.

HOUSE III: THE HORROR STORY (1989)

At first glance, House III: The Horror Show appears to get the franchise back on track because it’s not aimed at kids like House II. It’s also not as goofy as the original, which is appreciated, and there’s no “haunted house” aspect to the story, which isn’t.

A sizeable chunk of the action still takes place in a family’s home, but that’s a tenuous connection to House. Unsurprisingly, House III is something of a misnomer. The Horror Show was produced by Sean S. Cunningham, directed by James Isaac (who went on to make Jason X), and was financed by pre-selling it overseas as “House III”. They had to make good on their commitment, so it was marketed as a sequel to House in foreign markets, but not in the US. This was a weird business development that caused furrowed eyebrows in American video stores when House IV arrived in 1992, having apparently skipped House III!

The Horror Show will also remind some of Wes Craven’s Shocker (1989), which has almost exactly the same premise.

Detective Lucas McCarthy (Lance Henriksen) catches notorious serial killer “Meat Cleaver Max” Jenke (Brion James), but not before his partner’s arms have been lopped off and a young hostage decapitated — in two unintentionally funny moments. Jenke’s killing days now over, he’s convicted of over a hundred murders and sentenced to death by electric chair. Lucas goes along to witnesses the execution, perturbed to find that it takes multiple jolts to end Jenke’s life, then starts seeing disturbing visions that suggest Jenke has returned from beyond the grave to make his life hell. Or is Lucas just hallucinating because of the trauma involved in capturing this psychopath? I think you know the direction this takes…

This film has the same producer, cinematographer, and composer as the previous two House instalments, and a chunk of the story takes place in the McCarthy residence as the focus of Jenke’s afterlife mischief, so you can vaguely understand why it was coopted as a House sequel. But it’s fundamentally about Jenke, as a supernatural boogieman, targeting the cop who brought him to justice, now he’s somehow imbued with Freddy Krueger-like abilities to twist perception of reality. It’s not a haunted house movie in any real sense.

Still, for what it is, The Horror Show isn’t a total piece of garbage. I’m a fan of Lance Henriksen, accepting he’s one of those actors who’ll take any job that comes his way to pay the bills, and he doesn’t always do a fantastic job. I don’t think his heart was in this one, but it’s still good to see him onscreen. I was more engaged by him than William Katt and Arye Gross, anyway.

Brion James was a prominent character actor of the 1980s whom I’d long forgotten about, but was best known for playing replicant Leon Kowalski in Blade Runner (1982). He does a decent job here as a cliched madman, in a role that mostly required him to use his 6’3″ frame to look imposing, although his effort are tarnished by giving Jenke a high-pitched laugh straight from a Hanna-Barbera cartoon.

The scares are mostly delivered thanks to loud noises (the first is literally a moment when a cat leaps out of a kitchen cupboard), but I appreciated some of the gore effects The Horror Show delivered — most notably the grotesque way Jenke’s body bubbles and contorts when he’s electrocuted.

There’s definitely some crossover with A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), both in terms of how Jenke can make McCarthy “day dream” frightening scenarios that makes him doubt his own reality, but also in how he needs to be brought into physical form to destroy him in the end. Jenke even seems to “possess” a boiler in the basement, which is where Freddy’s glove was famously kept.

One assumes the filmmakers were just influenced by Nightmare and wanted to do something more visually imaginative, but Wes Craven was simultaneously making Shocker (about a serial killer who continues his crimes after being electrocuted to death) so it just seems very odd that these two projects have so much crossover. It’s almost like Sean S. Cunningham, a peer of Craven’s in the 1970s and ‘80s, heard what Craven was up to and wanted to beat him to the punch. Horror Story did have the advantage of being released six months before Shocker, but it made $1.7 million compared to Shocker’s $16m.

Regardless, both were flops.

HOUSE IV: THE REPOSSESSION (1992)

A truer sequel than the previous two movies, House IV: The Repossession sees the marginal return of Roger Cobb, hero of the first House. Only, there’s no mention of him being a world-famous horror author, and the haunted house is a different wreck in the desert that his late father owned. He’s also suddenly married to a woman called Kelly (Alien Nation’s Terri Treas), they have a daughter called Laurel (Melissa Clayton), and we meet him chatting with his unscrupulous half-brother Burke (Scott Burkholder) about what to do with their late father’s dilapidated pile. This is the same man, right?

Roger wants to honour the oath he made to keep the rundown house in the Cobb family, whereas Burke wants to sell it, but after Roger’s killed in a car accident the disagreement is passed onto Roger’s widow, who was dismissive of the old house but now sees it as a connection to her late husband and his ancestry.

It’s really all a slightly convoluted excuse to get us back onto familiar turf, with a story that at least tries to capture the original movie’s sense of horror and lunacy. The previous sequels were tonally wide of the mark, but House IV at least feels like something from the same franchise. But it’s still just another mess in terms of plot and logic, as Kelly and Laurel move into the house and comes under “attack” from supernatural disturbances. For a long time you’re wondering if the house is built on an old Indian burial ground, prompting inevitable comparisons with Poltergeist, and that’s not entirely false.

It transpires that Roger himself is behind the haunting, and is doing a terrible job of trying to warn his family about something dodgy going on with his stepbrother. It doesn’t make sense to do this by transforming yourself into a pizza and scaring the crap out of your spouse, when she’s trying to enjoy a meal with your grieving daughter one evening.

There’s really no clear rhyme or reason for half of what goes on in House IV, although my attention and expectations dipped so much during the movie that it caught me off-guard with a relatively good twist involving the exact circumstances of Roger’s death. The main problem is that scenes where Kelly and Laurel are being frightened by weird shit happening in the house don’t make much sense if it’s Roger who’s behind them. The story only really starts to come together, or have some fun, when it turns into a supernatural Home Alone (1990) with two Mafia hitmen prowling around and being made to hallucinate they’re insects. Or that the Cobb’s have a guard dog with a lamp shade bolted to its head. Don’t ask.

While House IV has a link to the original film (even if it ignores several things established about Roger’s character), and remembers that the first House became a cult because it delivered lots of ridiculous imagery, it’s not really about very much. It fails to come up with a reason for much of the middle section to even be happening, and things get slightly desperate when the story comes to involve the mob wanting to buy the ramshackle house to dump toxic waste there. And did I mention the godfather figure with dwarfism? Twin Peaks had just broken into pop culture around this time, which is the only explanation I can think of. There’s a sense that all of these movies just take the spine of a traditional haunted house movie, then bolt on weak imitations of things that worked in better movies.

Despite having more in common with the original, House IV went straight-to-video, and presumably performed so poorly that everyone was spared House V.

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/house-saga-1986-1992/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/house-saga-1986-1992/THE DINNER (2017)http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/INWr6CH091M/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/the-dinner-2017/#respondFri, 08 Dec 2017 17:57:39 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14602Two sets of wealthy parents meet for dinner to decide what to do about a crime their sons have committed.

I love Steve Coogan. I’ve loved his work for many years. I remember quite vividly the times we spent in university during my media degree studying Alan Partridge and laughing our heads off. Since then he’s made a huge success of himself between various UK television projects and Hollywood movies. He’s arguably never quite had a breakout American performance, however. It’s not as though we can expect audiences across the pond to love, or even understand, anything ‘Partridge’, so they’ve had to experience Coogan in things like Around the World in 80 Days and Philomena.

The latest big screen Coogan film is The Dinner, directed by Oren Moverman and based on a book by Dutch author Herman Koch. On paper this is a film that should have broad appeal, with a diverse lineup of big names including Richard Gere, Laura Linney, Rebecca Hall, and Chloë Sevigny. What could go wrong with such a range of talent? Truthfully, quite a lot. What starts as an intriguing premise turns into a meandering and clunky film, that fails to fully utilise its cast while lacking a coherent method of storytelling. The Dinner has a weak script and direction that becomes lost and confused.

Sometimes actors and actresses are only as good as their scripts. I place no blame on Gere or Coogan for their struggles to make The Dinner watchable, as both are capable of delivering captivating drama or humour, but here we find ourselves in a strange melodramatic middle ground. Stan Lohman (Gere) is a strong, confident character who’s career driven and struggling to keep control of his family life. It doesn’t help that his brother, Paul (Coogan), is his polar opposite and struggles to understand his angle on anything. One can imagine how awkward the titular dinner becomes between the siblings, but the problem is that their conversations aren’t focuses and never hit the burning subjects.

We see the wives, Claire (Linney) and Katelyn (Hall), struggle over supporting their husbands while also understanding how pig-headed and annoying they both can be. I spent a lot of the time watching The Dinner wondering why, exactly, any of these people are together, as there’s no love lost between them. It’s ultimately frustrating because, with a little more structure and focus, this could’ve been a tense and emotional storyline. Instead, we keep jumping back and forth, so it continuously breaks any momentum that’s built up. Coogan certainly gets nothing to work with here, and it’s yet another disappointing project to add to his resume.

Attempts at fleshing out these characters with flashbacks feel like a distraction from the issues at hand. The kids have done something terrible and the parents need to step up and do something about it, but they’re far more interested in their own problems and feuding than being decent parents, which I suppose is why we’ve ended up here. Do we need to know about Paul and his love of history? Is it relevant? There are many strange choices in direction that you’re left wondering what the point was because they’re so ineffective. Perhaps the mystery and confusion is what Moverman was aiming for, but it doesn’t make for an enjoyable watch.

Perhaps The Dinner works better if you have low expectations and aren’t aware of what these actors are capable of. It feels like a vague experimentation in storytelling but it’s a real swing and a miss. Are we meant to even like any of them? Do we support a particular view or is this a group of extremely selfish and unlikeable people? That’s something you never quite decide when you reach the end, and it’s an inherent problem with The Dinner. Films don’t need to be obvious with signposted developments, but it’s nice to have a clear picture of what the aim is.

The Dinner is like a jigsaw where random pieces are misshaped. It may appear fine on the surface but it’s badly put together and uneven.

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/the-dinner-2017/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/the-dinner-2017/OUTLANDER, 3.12 – ‘The Bakra’http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/d-asldTSgvI/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/outlander-3x12-bakra/#respondThu, 07 Dec 2017 17:57:24 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14633For Claire (Caitriona Balfe) and Jamie (Sam Heughan) to separate once, nay twice, in a season is rather a misfortune, but to be split...

For Claire (Caitriona Balfe) and Jamie (Sam Heughan) to separate once, nay twice, in a season is rather a misfortune, but to be split apart again at the end of “The Bakra” is looking like sheer carelessness. Although Outlander thrives on episodes that flip between the separate exploits of its main characters, this season it’s become an overused and somewhat repetitive way of driving the story forward.

“The Bakra” is a episode that stumbles over itself as it tries to cram in as much of Diana Gabaldon’s Voyager, rushing to conclude the series via some rather risible subplots about slavery, sapphires, and occultism. The more intimate, nuanced aspects of Outlander are, this week, put to one side in favour of an 18th-century penny dreadful. There were always going to be issues about racial stereotypes in the series and it’s clear the writers have been cautious, thus far, but “The Bakra” fumbled and misjudged some of these elements.

The sense of contrivance merely acknowledges the changes made from the book. In Voyager, it’s only when Jamie reaches Jamaica and the Governor’s Ball that he reveals the existence of his son Willie and, likewise, Claire meets Lord John Grey (David Berry) before reaching Jamaica and while she’s tending to the sailors on the Porpoise. For Gabaldon’s readers, to have these important scenes shifted to either end of the series might be asking too much to accept. I still think the anticipated complexities of Claire’s relationship with Grey are there in “The Bakra”, and Balfe plays Claire’s suspicions and confusions well during Grey’s reunion with Jamie, but we don’t get very much of it as the episode’s too busy setting up its occult subplot and uneasily trying to pay lip service to the issue of slavery.

However, I digress.

The episode begins with young Ian’s (John Bell) perspective as he is kidnapped by the crew of the Bruja after finding the hidden treasure on Silkie island. We hear mutterings that he’s destined to be handed over to the Bakra, whom apparently has a penchant for young lads. When he finally ends up languishing in a cell in Jamaica, Ian discovers that these boys meet an unexplained fate. He’s taken to a bedroom and meets said Bakra as she emerges from bathing in goat’s blood, rolling back the years by taking a page from the notorious Countess Elizabeth Báthory’s book because, after all, “protein and iron keeps my skin young.”

It’s revealed, as the blood is washed away, that the Bakra’s none other than Geillis Duncan (Lotte Verbeek). Again, this scene is rather over the top (and doesn’t originate from the book) in the way it introduces the very woman we assumed had been put to death for witchcraft back in Cranesmuir during “The Devil’s Mark”. Geillis plies young Ian with tea and cake, as one would being a supernatural force of nature, and drugs him into explaining why one of the three sapphires is missing from the recovered treasure. With a taste for virgin boys, she eyes Ian up as her next victim despite his protests that he’s no longer a virgin. She’s also rather pleased to know that his uncle, Jamie Fraser, is responsible for the missing jewel and is on his way to Jamaica in search of the lad. We’ll get to her bonkers use of magic to restore the King of Scotland to the throne in a minute.

In Kingston, Jamie and Claire learn of Ian’s fate from one of Cousin Jared’s contacts and that the slaves on the Bruja were sold to the governor. Claire, disgusted at the treatment of the slaves at the slave auction, allows her outrage to get the better of her and spoils for a fight with the salesman using her parasol. Somewhat ironically, her well meant protest results in Jamie having to buy a slave, Temeraire (Thapelo J Sebogodi), as a means to this end. He promises Claire they’ll give him his freedom when they can arrange it, keeping him from being recaptured in Kingston. To add to this absurdity, Jamie then employs Temeraire to use his knowledge of the island and its slave traders and track down Ian by working the Governor’s Ball to which they’ve all been invited.

The Governor’s Ball, all powdered wigs (even Jamie sports one), champagne and fortune-telling with Kingston’s elite, brings Jamie up to speed on Lord John Grey’s progress and, most importantly, how Jamie’s son Willie is faring. Claire is clearly disturbed by the sublimated attraction between the two men, especially when Grey flashes the missing sapphire at Jamie, pinned to his waistcoat, and announces he has treasured it all this time in remembrance of their friendship. Perhaps they should get a room.

Geillis has employed Margaret and Archibald Campbell (Mark Hadfield) to invoke a magical prophecy using the three sapphires. Margaret (Alison Pargeter) appeared in flashback in last week’s episode, and we knew they were bound for the West Indies, so it’s no surprise to meet them again. It now seems Margaret’s abilities as a seer are intrinsic to Geillis’s mad scheme to secure Scotland’s future sovereignty. However, when Geillis is spotted by Claire at the Ball, she first has to explain how she managed to cheat death. Again, it’s all a bit ‘The Perils of Pauline’ and confers an info-dump of such melodramatic proportions that her perverting the course of history seems like an after thought.

Apparently the authorities very magnanimously allowed Geillis to bear Dougal MacKenzie’s child before intending to hang her for witchcraft. Dougal promptly bribed the hangman to substitute some poor dead grandmother in her place. Marrying a rich plantation owner, she settled in Kingston as Mrs. Abernathy (I wonder if there’s a connection to the Joe Abernathy of Claire’s future…). Claire mentions that they’re in Jamaica to find the young Ian, and Geillis volunteers to assist while actually keeping mum about her possession and abuse of Jamie’s lost nephew.

Before the episode reaches its point of no return, it’s worth praising a little scene between the poor Margaret, sidelined by her brother Archibald after chastising her for telling fortunes without getting payment, and Mr. Willoughby (Gary Young). Willoughby seems to recognise she’s as much an outsider in this world, having been mistreated by her brother, as he is. Margaret describes Willoughby as “a rare soul” and in sympathy he offers that she’s “rarer still.” It’s a moment of calm in a gaudy episode and suggests a gentle understanding between two isolated souls, with him seeing her as “Yi Tien Palova,” (flower from heaven) to his Yi Tien Cho (leans against heaven).

Geillis spies the missing sapphire hanging off Lord Grey’s coat and contrives to hold a fortune-telling session in which Grey reluctantly participates. Now that all three sapphires are together, Margaret utters her bizarre prophecy:

When twice 1,200 moons have coursed between man’s attack and woman’s curse, and when the issue is cut down, then will a Scotsman wear a crown.

Grey is flummoxed by this “peculiar pastime”. Archibald translates the prophecy to Geillis as one proclaiming: “A new king will rise in Scotland upon the death of a child that’s 200-years-old upon the day of its birth” and this only fuels the absurdity piling up in the episode. Geillis might crack a Benjamin Button joke at Archibald’s expense but the only 200-year-old child I can think of is Claire and Jamie’s daughter. Is Geillis going to try and kill Brianna?

The episode rushes to a close as Temeraire reveals to Claire and Jamie that Ian was taken to a Mrs. Abernathy. As they set out to confront Geillis and rescue Ian from her estate, freeing Temeraire on the way, Captain Leonard (Charlie Hiett) arrives at the Ball and promptly arrests Jamie for murder and treason before they can leave. As Jamie is taken away, it’s left to Claire to confront Geillis and find Ian. The Frasers go their separate ways again at the conclusion of a rather overwrought, florid episode that reveals more about Outlander’s weaknesses than its strengths when it comes to character and plot.

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/outlander-3x12-bakra/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/outlander-3x12-bakra/THE APARTMENT (1960)http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/nFR-6opV9Cc/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/the-apartment-1960/#respondWed, 06 Dec 2017 17:57:07 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14443A man tries to rise in his company by letting executives use his apartment for trysts, but complications and a romance of his own ensue...

Christmas is getting closer, and so is the moment you’ll have to make a decision on what gift to buy for your mother. Well, I know what I’m getting mine: Arrow Films is releasing a new restored version of The Apartment (1960), and it couldn’t come at a better time. This is a true masterpiece of American comedy, featuring a stellar, an unparalleled performance by protagonist Jack Lemmon, many memorable scenes that still make you laugh (or break your heart), and all-round great scoring, editing, writing, and most of all directing by the legendary Billy Wilder.

Most of my film-related childhood memories involve either me watching a Disney cartoon or The Blues Brothers (1980) for the hundredth time, or my mother watching a Jack Lemmon comedy. Even though I was soon won over by The Odd Couple (1968), Some Like it Hot (1959), and Grumpy Old Men (1993), I couldn’t seem to get myself to like The Apartment. Needless to say, my mother absolutely loved it, but to me its humour was too distant from the slapstick, silly playfulness of the comedies I’d grown accustomed to. Its characters were certainly not typically fabricated caricatures, and that didn’t make me laugh as much as I wanted. Why was my mum trying to sell it as a classic comedy? I was having none of it.

This refusal to acknowledge any of the film’s merits lasted well into my teens, when I finally had the chance to watch it again with new eyes. Despite the granite-solid (that is to say, obtuse) confidence teenagers hold in their convictions, The Apartment made a breach this time. I could better appreciate the romantic triangle involving insurance worker C.C. “Bud” Baxter (Lemmon), his manager Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), and their mutual love interest, lift operator Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine). Even the Christmassy moments and New Year’s Eve parties made more sense: their mundane, loud, socially frivolous frolics are clearly counterposed by Wilder with scenes of self-sacrifice, generosity, love, and discontinuity with the past, truer to the holiday spirit. I could also understand the irony of it all, as I was more open to observing the masterful setups and pay-offs that enrich the film on many different levels. All this turned out to be much more enjoyable than any one-off jokes. In short: I had matured.

This is what The Apartment is about: becoming a better person. It starts with Baxter slogging all day and night at his alienating office in New York City; he’s only one of the many thousands employed there, but has an ace up his sleeve. His apartment, just a few blocks away from Central Park, is particularly popular with his managers, a bunch of married corporate pigs who take their secretaries out and need a safe den for their dirty deeds. Baxter doesn’t mind it too much because he’s playing the long game. He knows that, sooner or later, he’ll be repaid with a much sought-after promotion. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself. The reality is that his bosses never hesitate to take advantage of the situation, and he bows his head to them every single time; his aspiration is a justification for his cowardice and, on a deeper, darker level, a mask for his profound loneliness.

When his moment finally arrives, Baxter is summoned by Director of Personnel, Mr. Sheldrake. Still rubbing his hands in expectation, he’s first praised by Sheldrake, then interrogated about his popularity among managers and, eventually, unceremoniously made to confess his game. After reprimanding him as any righteous manager would, Mr. Sheldrake has one request: there’s this woman he’s seeing… and he could really use Baxter’s apartment. As we, the audience, see the irony of the situation and hold our heads in contempt, Baxter bows his once again, promising allegiance to his new boss, seeing a further promotion down the line. On his way out he even finds the courage to arrange a date with Miss Kubelik, the cute elevator operator who’s so far managed to deflect all advances from the company’s men. Actually, all but one, as she happens to be none other than Mr. Sheldrake’s mistress.

Billy Wilder always put lots of care in giving his films a solid structure, and with The Apartment he definitely reached a new high. The plot unfolds flawlessly. The characters are perfectly entangled in a web that seems to get more constricting the more they try to set themselves free. With every movement, a new chance for comedy blossoms.

Baxter’s neighbours think he’s a Casanova because of all the noise from his flat. In one scene he’s spotted by one of them while putting out a bin full of empty liqueur bottles. We know he’s cleaning after his guests, but we can also immediately tell what the neighbour is thinking. In another scene Baxter, aware that Mr. Sheldrake is growing tired of his mistress, finally thinks he has his chance with her and rehearses his pitch for his boss. He intends to tell him he will take the girl “off his hands” so he’ll have “nothing to worry about”. As a matter of fact, Sheldrake has just been dumped by his wife, so as soon as he sees Baxter he tells him he’s now ready to take Kubelik off his hands, so Baxter will have nothing to worry about.

You’ll laugh, but many times it’ll be bitter laughter. Wilder, who also wrote the screenplay (and produced) with frequent collaborator I.A.L. Diamond, doesn’t pull any punches, even entering the sticky territory of attempted suicide. There’s very little to laugh about when someone swallows a bottle of sleeping pills, but it’s thanks to this moment that the film can make such a dramatic impact. Miss Kubelik, although initially far from coming across as a girl who’s easily played, seems to have fallen for the wrong man like too many others in millions of films before her; but her fight to set herself free is real, and as empowering as brilliantly concluded. She achieves this through pure sheer will and hard-reached maturity, and not because of a man saving her from herself, as seen in many mediocre love stories (even modern ones).

If anything, it’s Baxter who grows thanks to her, and to the feelings he’s been developing; for once, he cares about something bigger than his short-sighted personal goals. Baxter is completely oblivious to the tragedy of his character, but he’s well-meaning, naturally charming, and can warm up a room with a smile when given the chance to express his kindness. His arc is one of maturity, too. I always found his act of courage at the end of the film quite abrupt, albeit necessary for the inevitable happy ending. Lemmon’s performance is magnificent, something to be really thankful for: his persona is quirky and funny, because of how he reacts to all his misfortunes, yet deeply nuanced and vulnerable. It didn’t earn him the Academy Award he was nominated for, but surely helped the film scoop five Oscars out of nine, including Best Picture, Director, and Writing.

This new Blu-ray release of The Apartment include a making-of featurette, profiles of Lemmon and Wilder, and other interesting special content that will help you appreciate the film even more. An audio commentary on a couple of scenes will also provide some particularly fascinating insight into this unforgettable work of art. Get your Christmas wrapping paper ready.

Special Features:

Limited Deluxe Edition Blu-ray [3000 copies].

Brand new 4K restoration of the film from the original camera negative produced by Arrow Films exclusively for this release.

Original uncompressed PCM mono audio.

Optional 5.1 remix in lossless DTS-HD Master Audio.

Optional English SDH subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing.

Audio commentary with film producer and historian Bruce Block.

New appreciation of the film and select scene commentary by film historian Philip Kemp.

The Flawed Couple: a new video essay by filmmaker David Cairns on the collaborations between Billy Wilder and Jack Lemmon.

Billy Wilder ABC: an overview by David Cairns on the life and career of the filmmaker, covering his films, collaborators and more.

New interview with actress Hope Holiday.

Inside the Apartment, a half-hour “making-of” featurette from 2007 including interviews with Shirley MacLaine, executive producer Walter Mirisch, and others.

Magic Time: The Art of Jack Lemmon, an archive profile of the actor from 2007.

Original screenplay by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond (BD-ROM content).

Cast & Crew

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/the-apartment-1960/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/the-apartment-1960/FEAR THE WALKING DEAD – Season Threehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/HMXeDThjKN8/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/fear-walking-dead-season-three/#respondTue, 05 Dec 2017 17:57:12 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14441While the world’s arguing over the future of The Walking Dead (all things Negan, and whether the show has lost the plot), spin-off Fear...

While the world’s arguing over the future of The Walking Dead (all things Negan, and whether the show has lost the plot), spin-off Fear the Walking Dead has been steadily improving with each passing season. It’s almost as if there’s a correlation between how bad the main series gets and how good FtWD becomes. I’ve been a fan from day one, enjoying the tension and horror far more than what The Walking Dead has managed in recent times. It’s a crime that FtWD only manages to attract 2-3 million viewers an episode in the US, while the original still achieves highs of 11 million.

Most of the discussion revolving around FtWD has been about the upcoming crossover, where a character from The Walking Dead will jump ship and be featured in this spin-off. Hopefully it’ll bring some deserved attention to a drama that’s managed to quietly succeed on its own merits and is underrated by so many. And yet, funnily enough, this third season cemented the original characters to the point where a crossover stunt doesn’t feel necessary. I’d be far more interested in seeing some of these people join the main show, rather than the other way round.

Spoilers ahead for season 1 and 2.

FtWD isn’t a show that you should be skipping, as they do a good job of developing characters and making you care about them. If you love Carol (Melissa McBride) in The Walking Dead then FtWD’s lead, Madison Clark (Kim Dickens), will utterly hook you in. A dominant and headstrong female is something the world needs at the moment, and her daughter Alicia (Alycia Debnam-Carey) certainly takes after her mother. Both women are brave and slightly erratic at times, but generally take logical steps towards safety.

By the end of second episode, “The New Frontier”, one gets the feeling that FtWD’s writers are not messing around. With big payoffs and clear stakes, this is a show worth investing in and it rewards viewers with scares and surprises. Unlike The Walking Dead, which often makes you feel like you want an hour of your life back, FtWD manages to really go places, making its audience invest in these characters and care to follow them. Madison is someone many people will relate to, male or female, as she’s trying to balance being a parent with her own survival and caring for others around her. It’s a tough juggling act, but Dickens has such emotive range that you believe every word she says. If you’re looking for a true leader, look no further.

It’s true there’s still a familiar struggle behind FtWD, with too many characters and too many locations. You have Madison and her family joining the Broke Jaw ranch, while Daniel (Rubén Blades) and Victor (Colman Domingo) have their own storyline over at the Gonzalez Dam. It’s a difficult balancing act that can be frustrating but, thankfully, manages to pay off later in the season. Without giving too much away, the storylines collide in an entertaining manner and it isn’t dragged out for too long.

Episode 4, “100”, is a strong character-focused study of Daniel and gives him a whole new importance, and you don’t mind these slight diversions from the core story if they’re as strong as this. It solidifies Daniel as one to watch.

That’s where FtWD finds its strength. Despite its mishmash of characters and different storylines, it manages to put enough focus on the right people and give audiences many reasons to keep watching. There are no cheap cliffhangers or pointless swerves, so everything feels as if it has a point and the disparate parts are heading in the same direction. Alicia and Nick (Frank Dillane) may struggle with their youth, compared to their mum and older allies, but they’re not nearly as annoying as The Walking Dead’s Carl (Chandler Riggs) for example. And, most importantly for me, is that real loss happens and we don’t end up with an insane number of fresh additions just to kill them off instead of the original gang.

The Clark family isn’t always a solid unit, and moments of tension between mother and child are to be expected. Nobody’s a zombie apocalypse expert. Those interpersonal issues further add a relatable dimension to the series, allowing the cast to deliver some fine performances. Sometimes it isn’t all about the characters, though, as FtWD often thrives with the simplicity of its locations. The choice of Mexico and South America creates a completely different atmosphere to the main series, to the point where you’d almost never believe the two were related at all. With large open spaces and a unique visual style, it’s often more focused on human survivors, so rare moments of ‘walker’ terror become even more effective.

It’s not easy to deliver something fresh to well-worn subject matter. There are numerous zombie movies and TV shows about right now, and sometimes you think you’ve seen it all. FtWD benefits from a solid cast and writers that know their direction and have developed a good tone to the storytelling. 16 episodes is still too many, but FtWD manages to flesh out its characters better than The Walking Dead manages. I suppose it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to a show still in its infancy, versus one with over a hundred episodes, but with the crossover coming up there will always be comparisons between the two. And considering how complex Madison and her kids are, I think the writers made completely the right choice in who’s coming over from The Walking Dead. They’ll fit in perfectly with their own complexities and challenging nature, so should shake things up a bit. The future is certainly bright for this under-appreciated gem.

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/fear-walking-dead-season-three/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/fear-walking-dead-season-three/STRONGER (2017)http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/dfS40sXGkAs/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/stronger-2017/#respondMon, 04 Dec 2017 17:57:20 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14508The inspiring real life story of Jeff Bauman, an ordinary man who captured the hearts of his city and the world to become a symbol of hope after surviving the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing.

The phrase ‘based on a true story’ can feel like a warning sign, a way to indicate that a movie will be schmaltzy and over-sentimental. That can be especially so when the true story in question is a recent event. Happily, this isn’t the case for Stronger, which is committed to the reality of what really happened, warts and all.

The film tells the tale of Jeff Bauman (Jake Gyllenhaal), a man who lost both of his legs in the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. This is genuinely tragic and upsetting stuff, but it hasn’t been given the usual ‘moving and inspirational’ treatment. Any uplifting emotions you experience feel like they’ve been fully earned thanks to a compelling screenplay.

On 15 April 2013, Bauman was waiting at the finish line of the Boston Marathon to cheer on his participating girlfriend Erin (Tatiana Maslany). Their on-off relationship had been shaky, but he hoped that showing up at the event would prove his commitment to her. And then, tragically, he was caught in the middle of homemade bombs that terrorists detonated during the race. Losing both his legs in the incident, Bauman later played a key role in identifying the bombers from his hospital bed.

Avoiding clichés is difficult in a film like this, but Stronger doesn’t fall into that trap too often. Director David Gordon Green knows that, in some shape or form, we’ve all seen a movie where a character loses body parts in a tragic event and struggles learning to walk again. Rather than put the focus on Jeff’s physical challenges, the screenplay frames the narrative around his post-traumatic stress disorder. It focuses, in particular, on how much he has to deal with being called ‘brave and strong’ by everyone, but how hard that is for him to comprehend. In one scene, he asks “am I a hero for standing there and getting my legs blown off?”

One of Stronger’s most impressive accomplishments is in how much Bauman feels like an ordinary person. He’s not on the precipice of greatness or achieving something special before the bombing, he’s simply a regular guy just trying to make ends meet and his life is cruelly derailed by his ordeal. Bauman feels like us, and that makes his plight especially profound and relatable. It’s hard to imagine the trauma of such physical loss, and then add being thrust into the media spotlight with suffocating attention from your local community. Stronger makes it feel real.

Much of the impact of the film is down to an exceptional performance from Gyllenhaal, who puts in an Oscar-worthy portrayal of a man overcoming adversity. He’s easily been deserving in the past, particularly in Brokeback Mountain (2005), Enemy (2013), and Nightcrawler (2014), but acting almost entirely from a wheelchair is exactly the kind of thing that’ll draw The Academy’s eye. It’s more than the physical challenge, though, as Gyllenhaal’s character does show exceptional strength but, more crucially, we also see the weakness and vulnerability that make him feel so human.

While it’s less likely she’ll earn a nomination, Maslany is equally tremendous in a supporting role as Bauman’s girlfriend Erin. There’s a web of complexity when it comes to their relationship and how invested she is in it. At the beginning of the film, it seems clear to us that this couple isn’t built to last, but him being at the marathon for her adds a layer of complicated guilt to everything, and she sticks with him through trying times. Many of the best parts of Stronger are all about this difficult relationship, and how Erin struggles both with Jeff and with his family.

One of the biggest obstacles for a film like this is creating a narrative that feels like it has a conclusion. These characters are real people, still out there living their lives, and there’s no easy ending for a story that isn’t just about Bauman learning to walk again, but also about him coming to terms with his mental anguish. Stronger doesn’t necessarily have a tidy or satisfying resolution, but it uses a number of scenes to build toward an ending, showing how the lead character’s managed with his physical setbacks and how he’s working on his recovery by meeting the man who helped save him on the day of the marathon.

Green’s vision for this film is all about verisimilitude, and one thing you can definitely say about Stronger is that it feels true to life and packs a punch emotionally. There’s no sugar-coating; we see the ins and outs of Bauman’s treatment and stay firmly locked into his perspective throughout the story. That there isn’t a straightforward conclusion even helps it to feel more honest, and the strong performances from the leads and the rest of the ensemble are a big part of why this film leaves a lasting impression. Stronger feels authentic, and it’s one of the rare films based on a true story that feels like it’s not sanitising the tale for widespread appeal.

Directed by Kihachi Okamoto, The Sword of Doom never benefitted from wide distribution outside Japan, so didn’t earn the recognition of similar films–like those of the (superior) Akira Kurosawa and (inferior) Nagisa Oshima. This nicely cleaned-up Blu-ray release is therefore most welcome.

The opening shot is a deliberate nod to Kurosawa’s Yojimo (1961), but very soon we realise Sword of Doom is much more than a Kurosawa-wannabe. Based on a novel by Kaizan Nakazato, set in Japan during the decline of the Shogunate rule, and exploring the concepts of karma and absolution, it has more in common with European cinema, and would sit comfortably alongside the philosophy-obsessed French New Wave of the 1960s.

On its release in Japan, it didn’t perform too well, perhaps because it lacked the light, often humorous touch of Okamoto’s popular satirical movies. Audiences were reportedly repelled by the relentless amorality of the uncompromising central character, Ryunosuke Tsukue (Tatsuya Nakadai), a Ronin assassin hellbent on chasing the next kill to satiate his increasingly insane bloodlust. It did, however, capture the imagination of young filmmakers forging their own New Wave in the Japanese film industry. Along with Okamoto’s other samurai movies, such as Samurai Assassin (1965), it quickly garnered a cult following and is now recognised as a genre-defining classic.

The cast all do a great job, sometimes with minimal movement and subtle expressions, and Tatsuya Nakadai gives a measured and deeply complex lead performance as Ryunosuke Tsukue. In many scenes his face is almost mask-like, eyes fixed and staring, though as his mental breakdown progresses, slowly but surely, the tiny twitches and glances become very telling. Eventually, his self-possession begins to crumble and the mask cracks with manic grins and leering madness. It really is a fascinating portrayal of a man battling with his inner demons before deciding to accept them as welcome guests rather than deal with their origins.

In a few of the movie’s quietly electric scenes, Nakadai shares the screen with Toshirô Mifune as samurai master Toranosuke Shimada, the one swordsman that just might have the skills to best Ryunosuke Tsukue, yet he repeatedly avoids situations that could lead them into conflict. Here we have two of the most recognisable leading men of Japanese cinema, both renowned for their many roles for Akira Kurosawa, and Nakadai would effectively replace Mifune as the director’s muse, going on to star in two of Kurosawa’s most accomplished films: Kagemusha (1980) and Ran (1985).

Every scene is shot with great consideration for composition and camera motion. The monochrome cinematography is beautiful throughout, and the violent set-pieces are astonishingly well planned and executed. Okamoto constructs each scene with an eye for structural composition across the frame, treating the screen as a picture plane to carry his arrangements of light and dark forms. In this respect his approach is painterly and starkly Modernist, though he counters this with an ingenious use of three-dimensional space, stacking characters from crisp close-up to distant smudges beyond the focal field. Sometimes the camera rests on a pleasingly wide composition, giving us time to take it in and appreciate its simple beauty, but just as often the camera moves dynamically through the sets and amongst players as they hit their marks precisely on cue. Sword of Doom is an absorbing piece of pure cinema and remains aesthetically rewarding to the very last, brave frame.

Aesthetics aside, it offers up multiple readings of a very rich subtext. The movie follows the somewhat bleak story of a quietly insane serial killer, who just happens to be given licence to realise his compulsions because he’s a formidable samurai. It seems that he seeks oblivion and escape from a destiny he believes is inevitable—can he be truly evil if events are beyond his control and governed by strict codes of honour and cruel destiny? His father seems to think so and openly admits that things would’ve been better if he’d never been born. Yes, even his own father condemns and disowns him, not to mention his wife who also betrays him! The scene where he confronts his wife in a snowy landscape is tragically beautiful.

It’s said that the soul of a samurai is his sword. If so, then the only thing that validates that soul is the bloodying of the blade. What other purpose does a sword have? The sword also has phallic connotations, and it’s broadly hinted at throughout the film that his suppressed lust for men (which would be completely unacceptable in Shogunate Japan) has been perverted into an almost vampiric bloodlust for killing them. It’s unclear whether he accepts this aspect of himself and this fear of self-awareness maybe what drives him relentlessly along his nihilistic path. Only when killing does his face reveal any honest emotion. In the final orgiastic battle, there’s a moment when bodily fluid flows freely (blood in this case) and another moment of almost orgasmic paralysis as he leans upon a freshly slain opponent for physical support. The bliss of death by proxy.

Sex and death are real, visceral experiences, though death is one thing we can’t directly experience and remains forever objective–the culmination of, and release from, our destiny. We can walk out of the film, but Ryunosuke Tsukue cannot. He’s locked into his course of action. But, is he immoral out of choice, or is his life beyond his control? The concept of destiny absolves the individual from culpability, for if there is no free will, then all consequences are inevitable. This dilemma has formed the core of many myths since the beginning of storytelling. The human challenging the gods–or the individual challenging pre-destiny and forging their own unique one. Here, the antihero follows an unchallenged destiny, even if it leads them into evil.

We may witness the death of others, imagine our own, but death will ultimately rob us of that direct experience. Tsukue is killing others in lieu of his own ‘demons’ and memories–being in the moment of battle is his way of eliminating all other thoughts, desires, and memories. This is explored in the film’s seemingly supernatural sequence when he’s haunted by the ghosts of those he’s slain, the only real hint that the mounting death toll has affected him emotionally, and perhaps he feels some measure of remorse. It also clearly indicates that he’s become increasingly unhinged as the plot progresses.

The film could be read as an exploration of psychosis and behavioural self-medication. In this aspect, Tsukue reminded me of Rutger Hauer’s character in The Hitcher (1986), who keeps on killing in more and more ostentatious ways in the hope that, one day, he might meet someone who’ll stop him and offer final release. The idea of a character in a film attempting to escape their destiny is doubly ironic, for film is by its very nature a fixed, recurring pattern of events and the destinies of its characters will always remain unaltered. An eternal recurrence.

Sword of Doom’s influence can’t be overstated. The film that most clearly wears this influence on its sleeve is probably Shogun Assassin, a 1980s re-hash of the first two movies in the Lone Wolf and Cub series. The Lone Wolf character is equally remorseless as a shogun-less samurai and demonstrates similar, almost supernatural prowess with his sword, but is redeemed by his single-minded tenacity and stubborn survival against all odds to protect his baby son. The popularity of the 26-film series featuring the blind swordsman Zatoichi, also owes a great debt to Sword of Doom.

The new high-definition digital restoration of The Sword of Doom, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack, really shows off the exquisite cinematography in full 2.35:1 aspect ratio, along with some subtle yet effective sound design. The Blu-ray extras are a little disappointing for something calling itself a ‘special edition’, however. We get the theatrical trailer and a partial commentary by film historian Stephen Price. He does a great job of referring back to the original novel, placing it against a historical backdrop and pointing out where the film differs, and includes potted biographies of the cast and crew. The commentary becomes more of an audio-description at times as he describes, shot by shot, what we are looking at–a gift for anyone writing a Media Studies essay on narrative structure and technical codes! But then, he jumps whole swathes of the film when he feels the content doesn’t support his own critique. I hear that there will also be a critical essay by Geoffrey O’Brien, though this wasn’t accessible on the review copy.

The finale is one of the most impressive and insanely well-choreographed action sequences in all of cinema. The stylistic composition and inventive use of varying focal depths is breathtaking. The seeds of the ‘heroic-bloodshed’ genre germinated here–only this is more ‘anti-heroic-bloodshed’. Tsukue dispatches what seems like a hundred fellow samurai (I lost count at 76), in what must be the highest on-screen death-per-minute of any film from that era. The only redemption offered the central character, and the viewer, is the motiveless moment and beauty of each perfect frame. One after another in a predestined order, with no release, until…

]]>https://www.framerated.co.uk/sword-doom-1966/feed/0https://www.framerated.co.uk/sword-doom-1966/MALATESTA’S CARNIVAL OF BLOOD (1973)http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/FrameRated/~3/iHOQsFRhGSQ/
https://www.framerated.co.uk/carnival-blood-1970/#respondSat, 02 Dec 2017 18:40:24 +0000https://www.framerated.co.uk/?p=14437The Norris family start working at a seedy carnival, as a cover for searching for their missing son, who disappeared after visiting there....

Compared to the untraditional The Witch Who Came From the Sea (1975), the other two entries in Arrow Films’s American Horror Project follow a more expected pattern. Having had the pleasure of watching Malatesta’s Carnival of Blood I can safely say it’s a pure horror experience that director Christopher Speeth takes full control of, confusing the senses and giving audiences an unnerving ride. It’s not big budget and doesn’t have the most original of concepts, but the way Speeth directs the story using such strange and bizarre imagery makes Carnival of Blood an enjoyable and unsettling tale deserving of your time.

The idea of circuses and travelling carnivals has formed the backbone of horror for longer than any of us can remember. Freaks (1932) remains one of the most uncomfortable of movies ever made, and continues to be an influence today. American Horror Story: Freak Show owed it a particular debt just recently. Just don’t expect Malatesta’s Carnival of Blood to look as slick as a modern cable drama! In the special features Speeth is open and honest about the budget limitations, and what he would change or add if more cash had been available. It’s thus even more impressive that he managed to make such an effective movie without much financial support, and I admire his understanding of the genre and his ideas about how to manipulate viewers.

The story itself focuses on Mr and Mrs Norris (Paul Hosteler and Betsy Henn), who lose their son after he visits the local carnival. Following his disappearance, they get jobs at the carnival in order to investigate the owner, Malatesta (Daniel Dietrich), and the manager Mr Blood (Jerome Dempsey). It’s not the most exciting of setups, but it allows us to spend a decent amount of time in an atmospheric and disorientating environment, and one that partly allows you to forgive the questionable acting and script.

The Norris’s daughter, Vena (Janine Carazo), plays an integral part in unravelling the mystery, and gets thrown into the heart of the carnival’s kooky lineup. Unsurprisingly, Mr Blood is a vampire, which you may have guessed from his name, or even the title of the film. He’s also working with a gang of cannibals. Some of the characters are bordering on ludicrous, but the general weirdness adds to the story’s creep factor. It feels as if everyone’s completely unhinged and anything could happen. A personal highlight was Bobo (Hervé Villechaize), because the actor fully inhabits his character and, according to a featurette on the disc, was completely dedicated to the director’s vision as a whole.

One can’t help but wonder what Carnival of Blood might have been with a larger budget. Speeth clearly had an array of ideas, but limited opportunities to deliver on them. Various characters are mentioned along the way, yet never seen, while the editing is simplistic. It’s a blend of bizarre experimental soundtrack and trippy sequences you can’t take your eyes off, to the point where the plot loses all relevance. You keep watching to see just what they come up with next. It won’t be for everyone, but it’s nice to watch something that takes a familiar story and tries to present a fresh angle.

Malatesta’s Carnival of Blood demonstrates exactly why Arrow Films specialise in digging out films that haven’t reached wider audiences before. Horror genre can be so bogged down in sequels and bland Hollywood fare that these unusual and challenging archival films are a breath of fresh air. This one’s a distinctive horror that blends the familiar with hazy dreamlike visuals, and by the end you’ll be so disorientated you won’t know what to do with yourself.

Blu-ray Special Edition Contents:

2K restoration from original vault materials.

Standard Definition DVD presentation.

Original Mono Audio.

English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing.

Introduction to the film by Nightmare USA author Stephen Thrower.

Audio Commentary by film historian Richard Harland Smith.

The Secrets of Malatesta: an interview with director Christopher Speeth. Speeth is open and honest in his criticism of his own work, especially when it comes to the budget constraints. It’s a movie he believed in but wasn’t able to deliver in the way he wanted, but he speaks fondly about his time on set, the learning curve involved, and gives credit to as many people as he can for bringing it all together. An interesting insight into the film but unfortunately a little short.

Crimson Speak: an interview with writer Werner Liepolt. Much like the Speeth interview Liepolt delves into the workings of the movie and how he tried to bring his vision to life, although it does come across that his take was a little different to what Speeth delivered. It’s a shame the features are focused on one person at a time rather than bringing them together as that would have been more interesting.

Malatesta’s Underground: art directors Richard Stange and Alan Johnson discuss the weird, mysterious world of Malatesta’s underground. Considering the visuals and direction of Carnival of Blood are the highlights, this is a decent enough look at how they tried to work within budget and deliver as much of the ambitious ideas as they could. One gets the impression it was a lot of fun to have creative freedom and try something a little different.

Outtakes.

Draft script (DVD-ROM content).

Stills gallery.

Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly-commissioned artwork by The Twins of Evil.